


Without Me

by loochskywalker



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Annoyingly Supportive Friends, Bad Movie Theories, Communication Issues, Emotionally Unavailable Narrator, M/M, Pasta dabs once so trigger warning for that, Trades, brief mentions of internalized homophobia, the love and respect david krejci finally deserves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 07:19:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16383770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loochskywalker/pseuds/loochskywalker
Summary: If Mitch was a Leaf fan, if he was trying to sit back and justify this trade he’d say the Leafs weren’t trading him for Matt Grzelcyk, he’d say they were trading him for Nylander and Grzelcyk. In which case, The Leafs win that trade.But Mitch isn’t a Leafs fan. He’s not even a Leaf anymore and his flight to Boston leaves in 2 hours.orMitch is traded to Boston and pretends everything is okay.





	Without Me

**Author's Note:**

> Okayy so a few things before this starts. 
> 
> I love the leafs, I promise and this may seem like i don't or like i'm trying to paint them in a bad light or make them seem bad. But i really tried instead to show the confusing mix of Mitch's bitterness over being traded, his longing to be back, and his genuine love of his new team. It's more that Mitch is internalizing a lot of feelings he should *not* be and it may come across as distaste for the leafs. But i promise I love the leafs and If this was a pastrnak gets traded to toronto fic, I would have painted the bruins in the same way.
> 
> This also is not relationship heavy, it's really about Mitch and his feelings and him dealing with them. 
> 
> ALSO i just sort of start using nicknames for some players so here's a breakdown incase you aren't familiar with them  
> Brandon Carlo - Monte (like monte carlo? get it? anyway.)  
> Jake DeBrusk - JD  
> Joakim Nordstrom - Nordy

It’s a bad fucking trade. That’s the only solace Mitch finds in the situation. They trade him for Matt Grzelcyk. Which is so uneven that Mitch thinks the bruins should be arrested for grand larceny. He’s not even trying to shit talk Grzelcyk, who by all accounts is a great guy, it’s just. Mitch has a healthy understanding of his game. A one-for-one with the Bruins for a second-pairing d-man is  _ not _ a trade the Leafs can justify.

Or well. They can. They absolutely can. And they do.

By December the Leafs losing streak had kicked into high gear and when they fall below the wild card spot they’re in panic mode. They’re in panic mode and they need to sign Willy  _ now _ . 

“Anyone can play with Tavares,” Kypreos says on National Television after the trade breaks, “But only Nylander can play with Matthews.”

Mitch is halfway through packing when he hears that and can’t help but make a disgusted noise. Auston’s fucking good, he can play with anyone too. Auston could play with  _ Mitch _ if they wanted to get him off of Tavares’ line so bad. 

And yeah, yeah, yeah, if he thinks about he gets it, kind of. The public pressure on Dubas has been off the charts.  _ Sign Nylander, give him anything he asks for _ . If they miss the playoffs this year they’ll be fucking crucified. It’s their last chance. Before Auston’s ELC is up… before Mitch’s was. 

If Mitch was a Leaf fan, if he was trying to sit back and justify this trade he’d say the Leafs weren’t trading him for Matt Grzelcyk, he’d say they were trading him for Nylander and Grzelcyk. In which case, The Leafs win that trade.

But Mitch isn’t a Leafs fan. He’s not even a Leaf anymore and his flight to Boston leaves in 2 hours. 

 

******

 

Mitch always joked there were two places he didn’t want to end up: Montreal and Boston. It’s the Toronto Sports Fan in him. He was a teenager when the Bruins stomped the Leafs in the playoffs, and every time before that when the Bruins stomped the Leafs in the regular season. As a fan they were the bane of his existence. They’re the team that gave up on Kessel and didn’t even have to pay the consequences for it. The team who won in 2011 and made it back in 2013. For most of his life the Bruins made his blood boil. 

Mitch scored his first ever NHL goal on them, in the Leafs home opener in his rookie season. He remembers it so vividly, the way the energy burst out of him, something so intense it was hardly happiness. He screamed and he jumped and they killed the Bruins that night. At the time he felt like it was justice, like the universe was finally telling the Bruins their time was over. They weren’t going to take advantage of Mitch’s team anymore.

But then last playoffs happened. Last playoffs happened and Jake DeBrusk did just that, took advantage of every single one of them. 

They lost in the next round, getting slaughtered by the Tampa Bay Lightning, which made Mitch feel a little placated but didn’t melt down that sharp needle of rage still stabbing his insides whenever he thought about that spoked B. 

So Mitch didn’t. He stopped thinking about that spoked B, and the first part of their season was great. Everyone was scoring.  _ Hainsey _ was scoring. Unfortunately, though, literally everyone was scoring, including the other team. 

It all piled on in mid-November. Freddie gets a concussion and no one knows when he’ll be back, Kapanen gets snake-bitten, Jake fumbles with every puck like it’s a live bomb. It’s just. Everything is a mess. And Mitch does his fucking best to take his boys, put them on his back, and get them through it.

He doesn’t.

They trade him. 

Now he has to figure out how he’s going to keep the Maple Leaf out of his mind. 

 

*****

 

Sixteen is retired, so is fifteen. Ryan Donato wears number seventeen. Bitterly, Mitch thinks that he should wear number 29, just for the drama of it all. When they’re talking about jersey numbers on the phone, Sweeney thinks 29 is hilarious but then suggests something a little less on the nose.

Mitch picks eleven. 

 

******

 

Massachusetts in January is very different than what Mitch is used to. Temperature wise, it’s about the same, if his Fahrenheit to Celsius conversion is correct, but it still  _ feels _ different here. The air is a lot drier and he feels more exposed in it. It’s not the harsh winds of Toronto but he feels like he’s on his own here. 

Maybe it’s not just the weather though, because almost everything about the Bruins is different than the Leafs.

Their practice rink is on the outskirts of town and when Mitch asks how he’s supposed to get there Sweeney says “Take the T.” 

“What?” Mitch asks.

Sweeney doesn’t elaborate. “I’ll send a car to your hotel.”

It’s not till Mitch actually gets to practice that he realizes Sweeney wasn’t joking. There arena is in some sort of complex that seems out of place in the rest of the city. Like it’s some sort of commune or whatever. There’s a few office buildings, a row of restaurants, and a huge parking garage. Mitch feels so out of his element here. As the car Sweeney sent him stops in front of the arena, though, and he gets out, he sees it. Between the rink and the highway is a train stop. A cursory Google search had told him that’s what the T was, and so… yeah.

He got traded to one of the only teams he genuinely hated and his new GM told him to take public transport to practice. 

He can totally handle this.

 

******

 

People don’t expect Mitch to be a nervous person but that’s just because he’s gotten so used to faking it. That’s not to say his enthusiastic, excitable attitude is  _ fake, _ it’s just also partially a mask he uses to hide the fact that he stumbles through introductions and doesn’t know what to say when people look at him expectantly. 

So walking into the Bruins locker room is maybe the scariest thing he’s ever done. He tries to make a list of players on the Bruins he legitimately knows. 

He comes up empty handed.

Which is kind of unfair because he knows quite a few NHL players it’s just that… the roster is almost entirely American, besides some of the older guys like Marchand and Bergeron, who Mitch definitely knows  _ of _ (and looks up to in some cases), but has never met. There’s also Pastrnak, who he knows of through Willy. Fucking Willy, who could never shut up about how great Pastrnak was.

“We have to be careful,” Willy would say, “He’s so good, and he’s sneaky about it. You won’t see it coming, then BAM, it’s in the back of your net. I’ve seen him go coast to coast before and it’s just like ‘oh wait how does he still have the puck.’”

But that was it. That’s basically all Mitch knew, outside of when he played against them. 

So he was nervous, sue him. His hands were clammy, and all he could do was rub them along his jeans as he walked down the hallway towards what he was told was the locker room. 

Before he even gets there, two men step out, one talking over his shoulder to the other. Mitch stops suddenly, in surprise, before they even notice him.

“Oh shit,” One of them says, “Marner,” and he jumps in front of who Mitch believes to be Charlie McAvoy to hold out his hand, “Anders… Bjork, What’s up dude?”

“Uh, not much,” Mitch says and shakes his hand, “you?”

“Not much” Anders echoes with a cocky grin. 

“Charlie,” McAvoy says, lurching forward to shake Mitch’s hand as well, “Welcome to Boston, man,” he says with a smile.

Meeting the rest of the team is kind of a blur, but he’s taken aback by how chill everyone is about the situation. Mitch lowkey expected someone to make a big deal about it. He knows back in Toronto they would have. Grzelcyk was probably met with hooting and hollering, Naz probably threw an arm around his shoulder and told him he was now a proud Maple Leaf. But here, Mitch just quietly shakes everyone’s hand, Pastrnak goes for a bro hug and Krejci pats him on the shoulder. Backes makes a comment about his fashion sense but he’s smiling goodnaturedly through it.

He was kind of hoping everyone would just be in the locker room, but after he puts his stuff down and changes, he knows he has to actively go looking for Chara. It’s Zdeno Fucking Chara, a Boston Icon and the captain, Mitch does not want to start his time in Boston off on that guy’s wrong side.

Chara’s out sitting on the benches in front of the rink taping his stick. It’s something Matt used to do when he wanted time alone but Mitch always knew how to find him. 

It’s not like Chara has much in common with Matt, but something about the way Chara’s presence just exudes steadiness and stability makes Mitch feel like, for a second, he’s back home. Hell, home stopped feeling like home when Matt left, so this is more than just missing Toronto, it’s about feeling settled. 

“Hey,” he says as he approaches Chara. It echoes oddly in the rink and up the bleachers behind them. 

Chara turns like he’s surprised but he just smiles when he sees Mitch. “Hello,” he says. He puts his stick down carefully and stands up. Mitch tries not to be intimidated when Chara reaches out to shake his hand. “Welcome to Boston,” he says.

“Thanks,” Mitch says and shakes his hand. “I hope I uh… fit in.” And he’s not sure why he says it, it’s a little too close to the truth to be admitting to a man he literally just met. 

But Chara’s expression doesn’t change as he nods, “Everyone has a place on this team,” he says, and something about it rocks Mitch to his core.

“Everyone?” he asks, a little disbelieving, but hiding his hopefulness in a soft laugh.

Chara nods, very serious, “Well…” he trails off and then shrugs, “the only people who have no spot on this team are the ones who try to push others out. Those men don’t last long here though.”

Mitch suddenly wants to ask about Seguin, or Hamilton, even Lucic, but he bites his tongue on that one. 

Chara’s words have another unintended effect. Because Mitch suddenly goes from feeling like he’s floating, detached completely from his body and the situation to being hyper-present, feeling every particle in the air and wanting more than anything to be the kind of man who deserves to be here, on this team.

 

******

 

He wasn’t on the first line in Toronto and he’s not on the first line in Boston. Although he finds out pretty quickly that, like transportation options, Boston’s on-ice structure is very different from Toronto’s. Mitch assumes it’s because the core of Bergeron, Chara, and Krejci has been around for over a decade now with Marchand coming up on 9 years himself. 

There’s just a feeling that it’s a puzzle, and most of the pieces just fit together. Mitch, for instance, is put on Krejci’s line with DeBrusk for the first practice. He almost wants to cry when the puck just appears on his stick and he realizes that Krejci must have passed it through 4 separate guys to get it to him. 

Not all of practice is that easy. He feels like he’s one step behind everyone. DeBrusk can either read Krejci’s mind or Krejci can see the future because they’re  _ always _ where the other expects them to be, and Mitch is just playing catch-up with them. Krejci comes over at one point and shows him how to stand in front of the net, like Mitch doesn’t know how to take a net-front battle, and he feels a little flustered, embarrassed. 

But not a single person, not even Backes, chirps him for it. Tuukka Rask, who’s standing right there and hears every word, seems unfazed by the whole thing too, even at one point puts his stick out to nudge at Mitch’s skates, angling them the way Krejci suggests. And Mitch feels al little bit less like there’s a spotlight on him when he looks up and notices that Bjork and Acciari are play wrestling at centre ice. 

He takes a deep breath.

They’re not judging him. No one is. 

“Alright boys, we got Calgary tomorrow night,” Bruce Cassidy tells them after practice, “in our own building in front of our own guys. I need you all to get Chicago out of your mind, we played well but this is a new day. Take care of yourselves and stay out of trouble.” 

 

*******

 

Mitch’s pregame routine is fucked up now. So much of it revolved around Auston and Tim Horton’s. So instead Mitch wakes up early from his pregame nap, goes down to the Dunkin Donuts in the hotel Lobby and tries to find something to replace his usual coffee before he gets in the team-ordered car that’s taking him to the Garden. 

As he goes to walk out of the hotel he’s stopped by a man in a beat up worker boots and jeans with paint stains on them.

“Marner,” he says, in the type of accent Mitch had honestly assumed was made up for movies. “Good luck tonight!” he shouts. 

“Thanks,” Mitch says back with a wave, and as he pushes the door and steps onto the cold snowy sidewalk, he hears another man clap for him. It makes him feel a little embarrassed, a little shy, but outside no one cares who he is, and so he can escape into the car easily.

He’s still in that mode where, when they drive through Boston, he can’t help but stare at the window with wide eyes, taking everything in. It’s not like he’s never been to Boston before, but he’s never been in Boston with the intention of not leaving. So he looks differently than he ever has. It’s not just a road city with good food and some cool buildings anymore. It’s smaller than Toronto, none of the buildings are that tall, and it’s built around the environment instead of built on it. Mitch hasn’t seen more than what’s around his apartment, the training facility, and now on his way to the Garden, but he doesn’t think there’s much more to it than that.

Matt calls when the car’s stuck in traffic.

“Sorry I didn’t call yesterday,” Matt says, in lieu of an actual greeting. “How you feeling, Mitchy?”

“Eh,” Mitch says, “Boston isn’t bad or anything.”

There’s a long pause before Matt sighs, “Yeah, but it’s not Toronto.” 

And he gets it. Mitch always hated thinking about Long Island back in the day when he and Matt were on the same team. Mostly because he felt a pang of jealousy over it. It was hard for him to picture Matt before they were ever friends. Matt had been there since day one of his NHL career and Mitch didn’t want to know what Matt had done those first few years. That didn’t mean he didn’t know what Long Island meant to Matt, though, and even though he still hates that Toronto didn’t become home for Matt, he understands the feeling a little better now. 

“I’m just,” he bites his lip on everything that wants to bubble out of him. The betrayal, the anger, that tender spot inside of him that’s crying over being kicked out of his home just because no one went to bat for him. “At least you signed in Toronto,” he settles on, still bitter but not too deep.

“Yeah,” Matt says, his voice still patient and calm with Mitch, understanding like he always was with him. “Our bye weeks cross over at the end of the month, you should probably spend the time with your team, but we’re not far. I can come up for a day or two.”

“Dude,” Mitch says, “Obviously, of course.”

Matt chuckles, “We’ll iron out the details when it gets closer, you have a game tonight.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, Chicago,” Matt says, “You can call whenever you want, Mitchy. You should talk to Auston too, he’s worried about you.”

Mitch huffs, “Did you call me just because he asked you too?”

“No,” Matt says evenly, “but he did ask me to, I was just going to anyway.”

“He can call me himself,” Mitch says.

“Yeah but he’s worried,” Matt says, “you know how he gets, he feels guilty that you left and he got to stay. He feels responsible and he doesn’t know if you want to hear from him or not. At least send him a text that says ‘mood’ or whatever the fuck you kids talk about these days.”

Mitch laughs. “Okay, old man, good advice.”

“That’s the only kind I give, Mitchy,” Matt says, “but I’m serious, call me any time. Unless I’m working I’ll pick up for you.”

“Always make me feel so special.”

“Well, it’s why the Leafs hired me in the first place,”

“There must have been some rhyme or reason to it, because I didn’t even last a season there without you.”

“It’s not you Mitchy, you know that.” Matt tells him gently, “They got rid of you to make room. Getting rid of a player that didn’t matter wouldn’t have made any room for them. You gotta get it out of your head that you did something to be traded away.”

“I know, I know,” Mitch says, “it’s not that deep.”

“Whatever.” Matt doesn’t believe him. “Make friends, score goals, and fall in love with the city,” he says.

“More advice?”

“More  _ amazing _ advice,” Matt says, “I gotta go though, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah, bye, Matt.”

“Good luck tonight, Mitch.”

 

*****

 

The thing about leaving a team that’s on a losing streak for a team that’s currently top of the division is that everything is flipped over on its head. Apparently. Mitch has nothing to compare this experience to, but all of a sudden all of his passes are connecting, players can’t catch him to hit him, and when Krejci comes up to him and tells him exactly where to go on the ice, it works out.

Krejci isn’t Tavares by any means, and he doesn’t think anyone would ever even argue that. But Krejci is smart, really fucking smart, and the way he coordinates DeBrusk and Mitch is kind of like he’s directing traffic, but like… it works. It fucking works. 

He tells Mitch to press towards the blue line when they’re defending, tells him that he and JD will pick up the defensive slack, Mitch just needs to get the puck into the neutral zone. And so Mitch, next time they’re in that situation, just… does it. 

He pokes the puck free from Hanifin and turns the jets on, beating Hanifin to the puck and streaking into the offensive zone. Behind him he hears a loud voice, “Back!” and he doesn’t even hesitate to shoot the puck.

The goalie was tracking him the moment he made it into the offensive and he basically had no chance to score himself, but that’s not why he takes the shot. The puck rebounds off the goalie’s pads, who tries to stretch across the crease but he’s too slow. JD is right there and he gets to the puck first. 

When the light goes off Mitch is rounding the net and jumping at JD before he can even think about what he’s doing. It’s the first time the Bruins goal horn sounds like something other than a nail grating at the back of his eyes. 

“Ey Mitchy!” JD says, “First point! First point!” 

“Great shot!” Mitch shouts back nonsensically as they piled on by their other teammates. 

“Toronto boy’s got it,” John Moore is saying in a taunting tone as they skate back to the bench for the fly by.

“Atta boy Mitchy!” is shouted at him more than once and when Mitch turns he sees that Krejci is handing something to the trainer and he smiles at Mitch when they make eye contact.

“Good job,” Krejci says as he skates up to Mitch and knocks their helmets together, “Keep that up.” 

Winning with the Bruins feels almost exactly like winning with the Leafs felt. Everyone’s shouting and whooping, Marchand is playing music with a heavy bass, and Pasta fucking dabs. But considering the reaction it elicits from Backes, Mitch is pretty sure it’s some running joke. 

Still, it feels  _ good _ . 

Someone cuts the music when Cassidy comes into the room smiling at everyone.

“Great game out there tonight, boys, we played our system and forced them to keep pace with us. We still need to work a little bit on keeping work in the neutral zone clean but other than that enjoy the win, we have practice tomorrow and then we’re going against Buffalo. Mitch, great first point,” Cassidy points to him and the room erupts, “stay out of trouble.”

The equipment guy, Matt, hands him his first-point puck once the locker room has started to die down a little bit and then the social media team wants to take a picture of him holding the puck up proudly. And he does it, his smile isn’t even forced.

 

*****

 

The thing about an NHL season is how slowly time seems to pass. Which is great because it’s hard to feel like he’s missing out on anything, but sucks because this late in the season, things start to settle into his bones. 

In Boston, time seems to pass slower. 

He was traded late New Year’s Day and technically didn’t get into Boston until 30 minutes into the second of the month. Then that day he had practice, the next they played Calgary, and here he is on the 4th feeling like Toronto was years ago.

He still hasn’t had the chance to call Auston, either.

Practice goes only a little more smoothly that day, because now he’s starting to get what it means to play with Krejci and Debrusk.  Krejci might not be the offensive threat that other second line centres are, but Krejci isn’t there for his ability to snipe top shelf, and it’s only taken Mitch a few days to realize that. 

There are just things he’s teaching Mitch that he’s not sure anyone else would be able to. Yes, the Bruins’ top line is probably the best line in the NHL, and yes, a lot of that has to do with Patrice Bergeron, but he remembers vividly when, not long ago, Krejci was centring one of the best lines in hockey. And yeah, he and JD are not Lucic and Horton, but Krejci still has that experience. Not only that, but Krejci is the type of player Mitch wants to be. 

He’s a passer, a play maker, the type of guy who comes in for the support, who’s defensively responsible, who’s rarely a liability. Mitch wants  _ that _ . Well-rounded without having to be a two-way forward. A player who doesn’t have to score goals to be wanted.

It’s really not a slight against the centres Mitch had in Toronto, even the fourth line ones. It’s just… he thought Krejci and DeBrusk just had some unnatural connection, but now that he’s played a game with them, he thinks it’s just that DeBrusk is smart enough to do whatever Krej tells him. 

So that practice goes better, if only because he feels more at ease, feels less like he doesn’t fit in here. And afterwards when he’s thinking about heading back to his hotel and calling his mom, something hits him square in the back and he turns almost expecting to see Leivo there, grinning like a maniac, having just thrown a ball of tape at him.

It’s not Josh.

“Hey Marns, come out with us,” It’s Charlie.

“Okay,” is all Mitch thinks to say. Not where, not why just, ‘okay.’ Because he’s lonely no matter how great of a teacher Krejci is.

 

******

 

Us turns out to include Bjork, JD, and Carlo, and where is a quiet Irish pub near the waterfront. The servers barely blink at them but it’s obvious they know who they are, because the waitress asks if Charlie will be paying like usual when they sit down.

It’s a chirp, or some form of inside joke because all the guys laugh.

“Not today, hopefully,” Charlie says. And they all laugh again.

Mitch spends a lot of time just looking over the menu and trying not to feel out of place. It’s not awkward or anything-- he was kind of worried this was a way for them to corner him, drill him for personal information or something.

It’s not, though. 

Anders is arguing with Charlie over the ending of some scary movie they saw together last week. Well, Anders is explaining to Charlie a theory he has about it, and Charlie is just repeating “What are you talking about,” over and over as the theory gets more convoluted. Every now and then JD will pipe up and correct Anders on an important plot hole, and Carlo is just watching them with an entertained look on his face.

“Movie night sounds stressful,” Carlo says when the waitress finally takes their order and Mitch has nothing to focus on besides the conversation.

“You should join us and find out,” Anders says, “it’s eye-opening, we watch some pretty intense stuff.”

“Please, you guys have watched Hereditary like four  times now,  _ and _ before then you watched Star Wars, like that hasn’t been out for 50 years.”

“Fuck you, four times,” Charlie says with an eye roll, “it’s a good movie, we watched it once back in November and just rewatched it again. You’d know that if you showed up. But I guess Harry Potter is devil-worship.”

Carlo’s eyes sparkle with mirth, “Yes, that’s why I don’t show up, of all the things we get up to every day, I draw the line at young adult movies.”

“Young adult? Those things get  _ dark _ ,” Anders said. “Have I told you guys my theory on how Ginny Weasley used a love potion to get Harry to love her?”

“Yes” Charlie says a little aggressively, “and we agreed it was bullshit because Ginny Weasley could have done so much fucking better. A better theory would be that Harry used a love potion on her. Like she becomes a pro athlete and then what? Just stops because a dude asks her to. That’s so not Ginny Weasley.”

“Okay, but Harry shows like, no romantic feelings for her, and then boom, they’re married. Like what’s up with that?” Anders asks.

“Bad writing,” JD offers.

Carlo nudges him with his knee then, under the table, and shoots him a goofy grin, “Bet you didn’t think you’d have to listen to this shit when you got to Boston,” he says.

Mitch shrugs and smiles, “It’s not like we have deep philosophical conversations in Toronto either.” 

“I don’t think they have those anywhere in the NHL,” Carlo says, “but these losers are a special brand of lame,” he thumbs towards the other three and smiles when Anders squawks indignantly.

“How do you even call  _ us _ lame, choir boy?” 

“You were just arguing over whether or not Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley used a love potion to fall in love. It’s a book. It’s not real. Someone wrote it. You can just  _ ask _ her, there are not theories.” 

“Yeah, okay, I’d like to see you ask JK Rowling  _ anything _ ,” Anders huffs, “Besides, Harry Potter is larger than JK. She didn’t write it, she was brought to this earth to bestow it on the rest of us.”

“Help me get this straight, is it devil-worship or the literal Bible?” Carlo asks, “Because that could really help me make my decision about coming to movie night in the future.”

“Really?” Anders asks.

“No, not really,” Carlo says.

Anders pouts at him.

 

******

 

They win against Buffalo and then they have an off day. Mitch gets invited over to Backes’ house and Carlo offers to drive him, but before that he calls Auston.

“Hey!” Auston sounds almost too enthusiastic when he answers but Mitch knows him better than to assume he’s faking it. 

“Hey,” Mitch says back, “how’s it going?”

“I should probably be asking you that,” Auston says, “but it’s good, I mean it’s…” he pauses, “having Willy back is nice, but it is a lot quieter here.” 

“Yeah, yeah, miss you too,” Mitch says, because he knows how to read between the lines and he’s spent most of the past two years living out of Auston’s pocket. “But things in Boston are good, the guys are nice, everyone’s super chill and things are going well with Krej and JD.”

“I saw,” Auston says, “We all have, you’re playing great there, but we always knew you would.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Mitch rolls his eyes even though Auston can’t see him.

“Whatever, just trying to be supportive,” Auston says.

“Coulda called sooner,” Mitch says.

“I know but…” Auston trails off guiltily, “I didn’t know if you wanted to talk about it yet.”

Mitch scoffs, “Please, Auston, I got  _ traded,  _ no one’s dead or anything. Yeah, like, it was a shock, but Boston’s actually a better team, so why should I be complaining.”

“Ouch,” Auston says quietly, “Listen, like, I’m not dumb, I know you loved Toronto. Sure, trades happen, but that doesn’t mean they don’t suck. And you’re a people person, you cried when Marty got traded, so I can only imagine… ”

“I’m fine,” Mitch interrupts, “The guys here are great, and yeah, playing on my childhood team was cool or whatever, but that’s gone. I mean, you know, right? Like, would you ever want to play in Arizona? Turns out the team you’re on is your team.”

“Yeah but with John…”

Mitch groans before he can stop himself, “Stop  _ trying _ to make me feel bad about this. I feel great. Boston is great. Yeah, I miss all of you guys and stuff, but it’s whatever, it’s a business, that’s what they’re always saying. No loyalty in sports and all that.”

“Yeah, okay,” Auston says cautiously, “Just… stay in touch.”

“You stay in touch,” Mitch shoots back, “I’m not bitter about this. You don’t have to worry about my feelings.”

There’s a long pause.

“How’s Willy anyway?” he asks, and despite himself he does feel a little bitter.

“He’s good,” Auston says, “I don’t know how much you’ve kept up, but my scoring is back. It’s taking him a bit to get the legs back but it’s like it was before. Of course. And Grzz is doing well with us too. He’s little and you know Babs doesn’t usually want little d-men but he’s already playing with Mo.”

“Awesome,” Mitch says, “And Kap?”

“He’ll get through it,” Auston says confidently, “It’s just a confidence thing at this point. He has the skill, we all know it, but it’s like when stuff isn’t going in, it feels like it never will, I think that’s where he is. But once Freddie comes back I think we’ll all get that confidence back.”

“Is Freddie coming back soon?”

“I don’t know,” Auston says and sounds a little defeated, “he says he’s doing fine, but they’re not really giving us any updates on it. They really just don’t want to rush him, which is good, but he’s getting frustrated.”

“I can only imagine,” Mitch says, “just gotta hope he’s back for the playoffs so he can shut that shit down.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.”

And Mitch realizes he was just talking about Freddie like he was still his goaltender and he has to press a hand to his forehead, “Yeah, I gotta go Auston, Monte’s coming to pick me up.”

“Alright, see you.”

“Bye.”

 

*******

 

Toronto is mostly just young guys and Hainsey. Even in the past when they had older guys, like JVR, Bozak, Marty, and Leo, they still acted like young guys. There isn’t a lot of that in Boston. But Mitch thinks it’s mostly because they don’t have to act like the young guys for everyone to mesh well. There’s just… more of a mix here. 

Not that he thinks the Toronto guys were  _ acting _ to fit in, that’s just how it worked.

But here in Boston there are a lot more older guys and they’re all steady and mature in a way that Mitch would have previously thought made them boring.

It doesn’t.

Backes, for instance, has him laughing so hard he can barely stand up, just by chirping Marchy to hell and back over his new watch. It’s just a dumb watch, and yet Backes is fucking ruthless and all Marchand can do is sputter and try to defend himself. 

Monte is giggling too, next to Mitch, and puts an arm around Mitch’s shoulders to make sure he doesn’t like collapse or something. Which is dumb, because Monte is like 8 feet tall, he couldn’t catch Mitch from all the way up there. It’s still nice that he tries, because like everything else here he feels sturdy. 

 

******

 

Mitch gets his first goal against the Capitals. He feels so fucking relieved when it goes in that he almost forgets to celly, instead almost just laying down on the ice and staying there for a few seconds. But instead he’s sandwiched between Pasta and Krej, which successfully keeps him upright.

The Boston media has been pretty good to him up until this point and he was racking up a few assists here or there. So Mitch wasn't really concerned about  _ that _ , but their next game is in Toronto and Mitch is so glad he doesn’t have the “and he hasn’t even scored” cloud hanging over his head going into it. 

It’s not… he loves Toronto. He doesn’t want to shit-talk any aspect of it. But the media gets intense there. And yes, he’s heard rumors about how intense it is in Boston, and he’s sure he’ll get more familiar with it the longer he’s here, but Toronto coverage is national coverage and that’s a  _ lot _ . 

He’s on the ice with Pastrnak and Krejci when it happens. The Czech connection, Backes calls them. And they definitely have a connection. 

Krejci sends the puck around the rim where Pastrnak picks it up behind the net. He rushes to the net and tries to jam it in from the side, but Holtby is there. He pokes the puck away from Pastrnak, but then it goes right to Mitch.

It seems the moment Mitch touches the puck it’s ricocheting off the top corner of the net and in. 

He lifts his arms in triumph and Pasta is jumping on his back as Krejci slides into him from the front. He’s laughing happily and once again Krejci is the one to grab the puck for him.

After the game that night he sticks the first goal puck into his suitcase.

 

*****

 

On Friday they practice at Warrior and then immediately head to the airport to fly to Toronto. On the way there on the team bus, Mitch sends a text to Auston letting him know they’re coming in that night. They haven’t talked much since Mitch called him, but they sent each other a few things back and forth, mostly chirping each other, keeping it light. But Mitch can’t not see him, and Brownie, and Freddie, and well… most of the guys. If they want to see him. 

Auston texts him back  _ Game night? _

Mitch has to rub at his chin to keep his bottom lip from trembling.

 

*****

 

“So, Marns,” Anders throws his arm around Mitch’s shoulder, “What do the cool kids get up to in Toronto? What places are hip and fresh?”

“Excuse me?” Mitch says, laughing in surprise.

“Ya know,” Anders says, “What should I, a man of class and taste, get up to while I’m here. And be mindful I have to take these kids out with me, so it has to be family-friendly,” he points behind him where Charlie is walking with JD.

When Charlie sees them turning to look back, he sticks his tongue out at them, causing all of them to start giggling. 

“Oh, there’s this cool restaurant on Yonge Street near Dundas Square you guys  _ have _ to try out. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it, it’s called McDonald’s, it has these golden arches, you can’t miss it.”

“Aw, sweet!” Anders says and pumps his fist, “I’ll totally have to check that out, I personally love fine dining.”

This is a man who wore a green plaid shirt over a rip off spice girls t shirt that was made to look like a heavy metal album cover. Mitch can’t help but laugh again. 

He heads to his hotel room with Monte trailing behind, talking lazily with Backes. It’s his first road trip with the guys, and he shouldn’t necessarily be running right back out tonight to meet up with his old friends. But no one even mentions it, especially not Monte, as he goes to head out.

“Where ya going?” Monte asks, sweetly curious, from his bed where he’s reading some book.

“To Brownie’s,” Mitch says, and then, “uh, I mean, Connor Brown. We had this thing, game night, this year, and we literally just get together, drink wine and play board games. The Leafs wanted us to play less video games when we were home and we couldn’t really go out much, so that’s what we did,”

“It sounds fun,” Monte says and he’s smiling and Mitch feels his stomach go fluttery.

“Yeah it is,” Mitch says and pushes aside his hoodie to grab his snapback, placing it on his head when he’s struck with inspiration. “Hey Monte,” he says, and turns back around.

Monte is already back to reading his book and just goes, “Hmm?” in response.

“Wanna come with?” he asks.

Monte looks up and smiles at him, “Okay.”

 

******

 

He doesn’t just show up with Monte, he texts the game night groupchat first, but he also doesn’t  _ ask _ . He figures it’s the least the guys could do, let him bring his teammate with him. It is supposed to be a team bonding thing anyway, and the Leafs aren’t his team anymore. 

Mitch worries for a bit that it’ll be awkward for Monte, but that turns out to be a non-issue. He knows Auston for one, they fucking played together, and Mitch never heard about  _ that _ . But also Monte is just, the nicest guy in the world, and it’s impossible for people not to like him. He’s kind of like Brownie in that way. A tall, oddly inspiring Brownie, who fondly teases his teammates and wears the good-boy moniker like a badge of honor. 

The real issue is that it’s awkward for Mitch. Willy’s there, which shouldn’t bother him, but after they hug their hello’s he has no idea what to say to him. He feels like he’s back in the Bruins’ locker room for the first time, unsure of what to say and who to talk to, feeling vaguely like he doesn’t belong.

They have a lot more guys over than usual, too, and Mitch is pretty sure it’s more of a small get-together to see him than an actual game night, but he tries to ignore it. A handful of them play Cards Against Humanity. Monte decides not to, but he sits next to Mitch and points to cards he should use. 

It’s kind of hilarious how  _ bad _ Monte is at this game and how he scrunches up his face at some of the really raunchy cards. The guys weren’t really joking when they called him a choirboy.

But Mitch still has fun picking the terrible card Monte tells him to and then dissolving into giggles when the judge picks the card and makes a face at its stark innocence, in contrast with the other cards. Monte grabs his shoulders and leans over him to giggle too. 

When Mitch and Monte leave that night just before curfew, he doesn’t even feel gross or homesick in the hallway, because Monte is still laughing with him. 

In the elevator Mitch covers his mouth because his cheeks are starting to hurt from laughing so much. He leans into Monte’s chest as he does, trying to stifle his laughs as much as possible. And Monte’s still laughing too which doesn’t help but his arm does come around Mitch’s shoulder and he rubs at his shoulders.

“That was fun,” Monte says

Mitch peers up at him and drops his hand to smile and nod.

When Monte smiles back he gets that same fluttery feeling in his stomach.

 

******

 

During the game against the Leafs, they play a tribute to him, and Mitch is surprised when his vision goes blurry. He’s crying, and he doesn’t even really feel it, but he wipes at his eyes anyway and raises his hand towards the crowd. 

When he looks up at the Jumbotron he’s struck by the colors he’s wearing. Black and gold, black and yellow… whatever. They don’t look  _ right _ on him. It makes him feel lost in his head and a little sick. 

Since he was young he wanted to wear blue and white and he got to. 

They lose. And it sucks. 

Mitch never wants to see another Maple Leaf again in his life.

 

******

 

The next week is a blur of games, traveling, and one memorable movie night with JD, Charlie, Anders, and Ryan. His body feels sore because it’s mid-January and the bye week is just on the horizon, so close Mitch is already slowing down in preparation for it.

They end up watching  _ I, Tonya, _ which Ryan picks out and says his girlfriend swears by. It’s not even that bad of a movie, but they’re all so exhausted that he ends up with Anders sleeping on his shoulder. He should probably jerk him away and chirp him for cuddling, but Mitch has always liked cuddling, and the other guys are pretty much out so no one can see him enjoying it.

His phone buzzes as the credits start to roll.

_ Still at movie night? _ It’s Monte

_ Yeah _ , Mitch texts back,  _ movie just ended _ .

_ Anders have any good theories for this one _

_ No unfortunately he fell asleep like halfway through. _

_ Bummer _ . And Monte’s rarely a double texter, but then,  _ you staying over there? _

_ Idk y? _

_ Want me to come pick you up, i’m feeling some Mike’s _

Mitch hasn’t gone to Mike’s yet but he’s heard of it.  _ okay _ .

He shakes Anders awake enough just to tell him he’s headed out.

“Alright, Mitchy,” Anders yawns and pats his leg as Mitch stands up, “See ya tomorrow bud, love ya.” 

Mitch can’t help but make a sickly fond face as Anders curls up on the couch and falls asleep for real. He really should make sure they all get to bed. Charlie’s on his stomach on the floor with a hoodie as a pillow, Ryan is stretched out on the lounge chair with his legs hanging off the end, and JD has his feet propped up on the coffee table. They all need to be in bed, but then Monte texts an  _ I’m here _ and Mitch has to go.

“How do you even fit in this thing?” Mitch asks as he climbs into the passenger seat, eyeing the way Monte’s legs stick up awkwardly in his car.

Monte shrugs, “I’d rather not have an obnoxiously large car and besides,” he says as he backs out of the driveway, “I’m used to my legs not fitting anywhere.”

“It’s a little freaky,” Mitch admits, “No offense but you’re like 80% legs.”

“Some people think that’s sexy,” Monte jokes with a slight smirk on his face. 

Mitch doesn’t know how to respond to that so instead he just laughs. Monte’s never made any allusion to being sexy or trying to feel sexy or anything so it hits Mitch a little hard.

It’s just. Teammates have always been off limits but a deep, hidden part of Mitch can’t help it. He just… falls in love, really easily. Not even  _ romantically _ , just with anyone who’s even remotely nice to him. And Monte’s been nicer to him than most anyone Mitch has ever met. But as long as Mitch keeps nice boys and hot boys separated, he’s usually fine in a locker room. 

Monte, though, is both, and for Mitch’s own good, it’s best he not think about it.

Monte ends up parking in some parking garage nowhere near where they need to be. It’s an oddly warm night for mid-January, which is good, because they have to stand in line outside to wait. A few people in line notice them and wave, but they’re mostly left alone.

So Mitch just stands there in his winter coat, shivering just slightly, trying to stand close enough to Monte to absorb his body heat but not so close that it’s weird. It’s late and Mitch is still feeling tired but Monte doesn’t try to talk to him much. He’ll mention something like, ‘oh did you see that play MacKinnon made last night,’ or, ‘you keep up with basketball?’ but he doesn’t press Mitch for an engaging conversation.

By the time they get to the counter Mitch just says Monte should get whatever and he’ll share. So they sit on a bench outside, and Monte lets him take a bite out of his cannoli, and Mitch can’t help but stare at him a little helplessly as he licks the cream from around his lips.

Monte just smiles at him all warm and soft. 

 

******

 

Despite the fact that he really does love his new teammates, Mitch almost cries in relief when Matt shows up at his hotel. It almost feels like scoring his first goal as he collapses into Matt’s arms and clings to him.

“Hey, Mitchy,” Matt says in his soft voice.

Mitch groans into his shoulder and leads Matt into his hotel suite. 

“So when are you getting your own placeMat asks.

Mitch just shrugs, “I have no idea,” he answers honestly, “I haven’t even really thought of it. I don’t even have a car yet either.”

“Don’t get a car,” Matt says, “not here, not in Boston. You aren’t cut out for Boston streets.”

Mitch rolls his eyes. “It’s not  _ that _ bad here.”

Matt shrugs, “Yeah, but you’re not, like, a great driver anyway. If you got a car I’d give you, like, 2 days before a middle-aged woman makes you cry because she flipped you off.”

“Well it’s either I get a car or the team keeps sending me rides to games and practices,” Mitch says.

“Doesn’t Chara bike to practice or something?” Matt asks.

“Not in fucking January.” 

“Oh hey,” Matt says and plops down on the little couch, “why don’t you move in with one of your teammates, get a roommate and everything. I know you lived on your own in Toronto but Auston was always over. So it’s not like you  _ need _ to have your own place.” 

Mitch sits next to him and stares blankly at the TV, which at one point was some trash daytime television, but has since switched over to the news. Some tree fell into a house in southern New Hampshire and Mitch still isn’t sure how Toronto and Boston can both be considered a city. 

“They’re all already, like, paired up,” Mitch says, “Charlie lives with Anders, JD lives with Pasta…” 

“Those are your boys then?” Matt asks.

“Well, them and Ryan and…” Mitch trails off again and considers telling Matt everything. He’d never hesitated to spill all of his feelings to Matt before, but this felt a little more vulnerable, a little more embarrassing. 

“What?” Matt’s voice softens, and when Mitch turns to peer at him he feels dumb all over again, and a little guilty. Matt has never made him feel bad about something that really mattered before, could always tell when Mitch needed a sincere and steady presence. He shouldn’t sit around and expect the worst from Matt.

“Krejci,” Mitch says, “he’s been, like… I know he’s not great, like, on the ice, but he’s been helping me a lot. Like, in Toronto I was one-of-a-kind, which was great, like, I’m not knocking that, being novelty or whatever. But sometimes it felt like I was making shit up as I went and just hoping it didn’t look stupid. Most of the time it didn’t, but sometimes it did. With Krejci it’s like. That doesn’t happen. I can bounce everything off of him. He’s, like, I don’t know, a mentor. He’s good.”

Matt doesn’t think it’s dumb by the way he sends Mitch a soft smile. “Sometimes a change of scenery is good for you. But hey…”

“What?”

“It’s okay to love your team here, and still be pissed you were traded in the first place.”

Mitch doesn’t know what to say to that.

 

******

 

He makes Matt go to the aquarium with him, something he hadn’t been able to do on his own yet. Matt came in on Thursday and is leaving Saturday night, so Mitch has enough time to drag Matt to a few touristy destinations and that’s it. But it’s fine, Mitch is just grateful for a few minutes with him, let alone almost three days. 

The aquarium itself is very different from the one in Toronto, which they've been to countless times. The centre piece is a large circular tank that’s surrounded by a pool of penguins at its base and stretches all the way to the top floor. Mitch iss drawn to it immediately, bypassing the exhibits of jellyfish, and local birds to stare into the massive tank. 

It was surrounded by tiny little alcoves that Mitch could lean into, the darkness of the building surrounding him and Matt, making everything feel closer and more intimate.

There’s a big turtle who floats around in it, and Matt likes her.

“She’s just so chill,” Matt says, “like there are sharks and shit in there but she’s not even bothered.”

“She runs the tank,” Mitch agrees.

“Steady,” Matt says and nods.

He didn’t mean to come to the aquarium to get so reflective, and it feels weird. The one in Toronto is a little more exciting, a little more upbeat. Like, bam, here’s a cool animal, bam, here’s a cool fact. But this one, the New England Aquarium, seems to be capitalizing on the inherent calmness of watching fish float through water.

But Mitch doesn’t want to reflect on anything. He doesn't want to think about how Matt is next to him. How no one in here really cares who they are. He doesn’t want to think about the ocean air, or the way he looked in black and yellow. He certainly doesn’t want to think about his empty apartment in Toronto, wondering if Auston ever uses his spare key just to check in on the place because he misses Mitch so much. 

None of that matters. Mitch is here. 

So he just stares at his own reflection in the glass of the tank, the way the light outlines his nose, and breathes in time with the steadiness of the water in front of him.

 

******

 

When Matt leaves, the emptiness of his hotel suite starts to feel strangling, and Mitch cannot handle it. He’s a people person naturally, but usually he’s good with taking time and space for himself when he needs it. Matt just always tends to leave bigger holes than he fills whenever he exits Mitch’s life. 

Maybe he’s being melodramatic about this. But it was the first time he’s felt normal in months, Toronto included. Matt taking him to movies, taking him to dinner, making fun of the fact that he’s barely over 170 pounds. 

So when Matt leaves and Mitch has to stay, not only is Matt  _ gone _ but so is Auston, and Brownie, and Naz. 

He’s been dead silent in the groupchat the past few days but when he opens it and sends a ‘movie night?’ text he gets a response from Charlie almost immediately, just the thumbs up emoji.

Monte lives on the way to Charlie and Anders’, and Mitch doesn’t know why he stops there. Monte doesn’t do movie nights with them, has always been a little adamant about it. Mitch never asked why and no one made a big deal about it, he just was steadfast. They offered him the chance every week and he would always just shake them off with a smile. Mitch didn’t take it personally because no one else did. Although to him, it was weird, that someone who was essentially part of their group skipped out on what was becoming something of a ritual. 

It wasn’t that Charlie, Anders, JD, Ryan, and Pasta were like, exclusionary, or anything, because the moment Mitch showed up they wanted him there. And Pasta only shows up like 50% of the time, and they still welcome him back with open arms. 

But still he tells the Uber to wait outside Monte’s apartment and texts him, ‘come down.’

Monte doesn’t respond, but Mitch has read receipts on, so he doesn’t have to. It takes him less than 2 minutes to come out of his apartment building, wrapped in a winter coat and a beanie pulled down over his ears. 

Mitch scoots to the other side of the back seat as Monte gets in without even asking.

“Okay, we’re good,” Mitch tells the driver.

“Where are we going?” Monte asks as the car pulls away from the curb.

“Movie night,” Mitch smiles.

Monte laughs and rolls his eyes, “You finally tricked me into that huh? I guess I can’t be that mad.  _ Unless _ they decide to watch something dumb. Then I am out of there.”

Mitch shrugs, “Hereditary really is a good movie.”

“They watched it again?” Monte asks. “No creativity.”

“Well you aren’t around to help pick!” Mitch says, “Besides, I hadn’t seen it yet. They were being thoughtful. Their debates are less annoying if you know what they’re talking about. Also it was scary as fuck.”

Monte just smirks looking out the window, his fingers lazily hooked over the handle attached to the roof of the car. 

Sitting in the back seat of a car with him makes Mitch really face how big Monte is. Not that he doesn’t stand next to the guy regularly, play hockey with him, whatever. But this  _ is _ different, they’re in a confined space together, and despite the car being relatively large, Mitch still feels a little crowded. But not in a bad way. 

He wonders if that’s part of the appeal of Monte for him. There is no way to feel alone when Monte’s always pressed right up against him. 

 

******

 

The movie they pick must not be dumb, because Monte hangs around. It’s one Mitch has already seen, but when he says as much, JD says it’s different because he’s actually in Boston now. Like The Town is a movie all of them can relate to, just because they live in the general vicinity. 

He’s too nice to roll his eyes at the logic, letting JD have this one.

They usually watch movies with the lights off, and while Mitch isn’t as exhausted as he was a week ago, he still feels something settled in his bones. The bye week had been uneventful, and besides Matt coming to visit, he hadn’t done much more than sleep. So with the lights off, Monte pressed all against him, and the thrum of a familiar movie in the background, Mitch falls asleep. 

No one bugs him or rouses him until they decide to order dinner, and then it’s just Monte, gently shrugging his shoulder so Mitch shakes awake. The living room is still dark, the credits are rolling, but besides him and Monte, it’s empty. He turns his head a little blearily, and sees that the light in the kitchen is still on, and he hears voices.

“We’re getting pizza,” Monte says, “You want anything?”

“Oh, Just… just whatever you guys are getting is fine,” Mitch says, and pulls away from Monte’s shoulder, turning his head to yawn into his shoulder and rolling his head to stretch out his neck.

“Okay,” Monte says, “You can keep sleeping, we’re gonna need it next week.”

“Nah I’m good,” Mitch says, “not that tired anyway.” 

Monte raises one of his eyebrows and gives him a friendly smile. “If you’re sure,” he says. 

“Promise,” Mitch tells him.

They all eat together in the kitchen, sitting at the island instead of the table. Mitch is suspicious about the amount of use that table has gotten in the time Charlie and Anders have lived here. They have guys over a lot, but they’re almost always eating in the living room or at the island. 

Mitch isn’t complaining, but the bar stools are tall, and his feet don’t touch the ground.

“Here’s the deal,” Anders is saying, “the Mandela effect  _ is _ real and it’s freaky as fuck. Like I’ve  _ never _ read anything about the Berenstain Bears.”

“You’ve never read anything,” Charlie says.

Anders doesn’t even acknowledge him, even as Monte snickers. “Like, okay, everyone always thinks the quote is ‘Luke, I am your father,’ but they’re  _ wrong _ , it’s actually ‘No, I am your father.’ And there’s, like, a group of people who know for a  _ fact _ that there are 51 or 52 US states, not 50. Like do you explain that?”

“The failing education system in the United States,” JD says.

“The media propagating a phrase that never actually happened, so much that people remember that more than the original source material,” Mitch offers.

JD nods appreciatively at Mitch and gestures towards him as Anders lets out an indignant noise.

“Okay, fine, then what’s the Forrest Gump quote, about chocolate.”

“‘Momma always said life was like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get,’” Charlie parrots.

Anders glares, “you did that one purpose.”

They all laugh.

“Sorry, sorry,” Charlie says, “what was I supposed to say?”

“Life  _ is _ like a box of chocolates,” Anders says

“But that’s not what he says.”

“I know that,” Anders says waving his hands around, “but that’s what most people think. You’re obviously not from the same timeline as the rest of us.”

“Yes, that’s the only explanation for your dumb theory,” Charlie grins, “Hey, why are you here in my timeline anyway? Go back to yours, I liked it better before I had to bark at you to clean up after yourself.”

Anders pointedly knocks an empty Coke bottle to the floor.

 

******

 

After the bye week, they all collectively buckle down. They beat Winnipeg, then lose to Philly in OT. After that they fly to DC to take on the Capitals, where Mitch has to answer questions to the media about a game he wasn't even part of. He doesn’t know how to tell them that he was gleefully aware of the Bruins being slaughtered in their season opener, so instead he uses the same canned, boring response of ‘we take it one game at a time, and we’re worrying about the one today, the past is the past.’

February is moving at breakneck speed. He doesn’t even realize it’s Valentine’s Day until they’re getting on the plane for their western road trip and Marchy complains loudly about having to celebrate it yesterday instead. 

“But don’t worry,” Marchy says from the back of the plane, “my lady is completely satisfied.”

Mitch doesn’t know what happens, but he hears Marchy’s squawk and assumes (hopes) someone pulled the hood of his sweatshirt down in front of his face, because he definitely deserved it. 

Western road trips always suck. That’s one thing that definitely has not changed. The only good thing is that their Anaheim/LA back-to-back means they don't have to move hotels between games. Their arenas are closer than his hotel is to TD Garden back in Boston. It’s wild.

On the ice, things just get better and better, even as the travel gets worse. Krejci doesn’t need to tell him every little detail anymore, and he still is able to find Mitch through defenders. And on top of that, JD is able to match his speed stride for stride, so sometimes they don’t even need Krej to put together a good play. 

He scores in LA, and it’s just him and JD at their end of the ice. They jump into each other’s arms and shout excited words at each other. He feels good the rest of the game, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

That good feeling carries him through San Jose and Vegas, meaning by the time they get the off day in St Louis, they’re undefeated on their road trip. It’d felt way too long since Mitch was part of a team that was putting together wins like this. Everything just seems to click in place, he feels giddy from it.

Someone on Twitter posts a gif of JD and him, skating in perfect sync with one another. The captain is #twinning. Mitch retweets it, because even he can admit the way their skates stride along with one another is rather mesmerizing. 

Connor Brown likes it almost immediately.

 

*******

 

In St Louis they all go over to Backes’ house, the one he never gave up when he was traded away from the city. Mitch remembers pretty clearly that Backes was a Blue, but the Backes he used to watch beat up Jonathan Toews is not the Backes that teases Marchy and passes kittens around to the rest of them. So it’s just weird, meshing the two Backeses in his mind. But he’s not  _ rude _ , he’s not going to say no.

He still brings it up though.

“Yeah,” Backes says, “just like it’s weird seeing you somewhere other than Toronto.”

Mitch shrugs, “Hockey’s just weird like that I guess. When I was drafted, I was prepared to go anywhere from Arizona to Columbus. I didn’t really let myself think I was gonna be a Leaf, but then it was like, this is my life, this is where I belong,” he pauses when he realizes he’s rambling, “but now you know, I’m here.”

“Oof,” Backes says, “Hard knock, kid.”

“I didn’t mean like that…” he says.

“I know,” Backes nods, as he takes a pan of something out of the oven. “It can be confusing, when you leave one team for another. You don’t stop loving the other team at all but you’re completely devoted to your new one. It’s different. But you still feel for your past team.”

Mitch nods, “So that’s, like, normal?”

Backes smiles at him and nods. “Completely.” 

“Sometimes it feels like a bad break-up,” Mitch admits, “Like, I didn’t see it coming at all, and then I’m just. In another city, in another  _ country _ .”

“Now you’re being a little melodramatic,” Backes says, “Boston and Toronto are barely an hour flight from one another.”

“Yeah well, it’s still different,” Mitch pouts, “besides, I’m opening up here.”

“Oh yes, sorry, sorry,” Backes says, “totally supportive dad mode, activated.”

Mitch snorts in amusement. “What the fuck ever,” he says on a laugh, “I’ll just go pour my heart out to Zee instead,” and goes to get off the stool at Backes counter.

Backes stops him with a light, “It is kind of like a break-up.”

Mitch turns to him.

“The best advice I got for you, kid, is just feel what you feel. Don’t try to pretend you aren’t feeling it and don't feel guilty for it. If you’re pissed, be pissed. If you’re sad, be sad. You’ll come out the other side in one piece.” It’s oddly serious for Backes, who’s busying himself with the food he’s still putting together for the rest of them. Almost so much so that Mitch feels like maybe he made it all up in his head. But then Backes looks up at him slowly and Mitch sees the understanding there.

“Yeah, I’m good though,” Mitch says. “Really,” he adds unconvincingly. 

 

******

 

They lose to St Louis. It’s a 2-1 game and the game tying goal is blatant goaltender interference, but the refs don’t call it back, like they're too fucking proud. It makes Mitch’s blood boil, and he’s not the only one throwing shit when they get back into the locker room. But unlike the other guys, he’s not able to calm down by the time they get on the plane that night.

He doesn’t sleep at all. Which is fine because they have an off day tomorrow. But he’s still fucking pissed, stewing in it all the way to Boston. He’s grinding his teeth and cracking his knuckles every few minutes. Can’t stop fidgeting, can’t stop from wanting to punch  _ something _ . 

Sometime during the flight he pulls up his phone and goes to NHL.com just to torture himself. The first thing on the front page is an article about their game: “Blues Ruin Bruins’ Undefeated Road Trip.” Mitch almost wants to go on it and comment that the call was bullshit. That the NHL should fire those refs immediately. That if they can’t get a simple call like that right, they have no reason to be in the NHL.

His media training is too good for that, though.

The next article is completely different, though, and Mitch hadn’t been expecting it. It reads “Nylander Ignites Leafs Offense,” and he feels something besides anger stir in his chest. 

He can’t stop himself from reading it.

 

_ William Nylander had two goals and an assist in the Leafs’ win over Montreal on Saturday night. Auston Matthews also scored in the win, which put the Leafs back into the last playoff spot in the East, something the team has not seen since early December.  _

_ “It just feels like everything is fitting together again,” Matthews said following the game, “we lost our footing there a little bit but we’re getting it back. We obviously are looking to do more than just make the playoffs this year, but you need to take everything one step at a time. We just want the city of Toronto to be proud of us and the way we play every night. We hope we’re getting back to that now that Willy’s back.” _

 

Oddly the article does not make Mitch feel any better. 

 

*****

 

He spends his off day ignoring his phone and doing his version of meditating, which includes taking really long showers and then sprawling on his bed while Law and Order reruns play in the background. 

Somewhere around 5pm, his phone starts to ring. He totally plans to ignore it until he turns over and sees it’s not one of his teammates, past or present.

It’s Laura Stacey.

“Hey,” Mitch says when he answers it.

“Hey Mitch!” she says brightly back.

“What’s up?” He wasn’t sure she had any reason to call him. He liked her, she was a really cool person and a great hockey player. She let him try on her silver medal and they trained together a lot during the summer. So he wasn’t sure if he could say they were  _ friends _ , but they also weren’t not friends either.

“That game against St Louis was brutal,” she says, and Mitch is surprised into a laugh, “I’m serious, it was bullshit. That was such a soft call, they only refused to call it back because they were in St Louis and didn’t want someone to start throwing, like, broken beer bottles at the refs.”

“Yeah, well,” Mitch says, “What are you gonna do, that shit still happens. Besides, we’re top of the division anyway.”

“You’re not the type to get complacent, though,” she says.

“So, what,” he asks, “you called because you saw the game and knew I’d be stewing over it?” He tries to make it sound like she’s stupid, but instead it just makes him very aware how right she is.

“Well,” she pauses. “Matt called me,” she finally admits.

“What?” he asks.

“He says you weren’t responding to him, and Auston had called  _ him _ because you weren’t responding over there either. So they thought I’d have a better chance at getting through to you because I’m not, like, Leafs adjacent or something.”

“Come on, Stace,” he says, “give yourself some credit, it’s obviously because you’re the only one whose opinion actually matters.”

“Oh, why thank you,” she says, “they told me to be subtle but that’s not my strong suit. Besides, it feels like I’m spying on you, and that just feels weird.”

“Can I ask you something?” he says, surprising himself.

“Sure!” she says back, sounding as surprised as he feels.

“Have you ever like…” he trails off, not sure where to take this.

“What?” she asks finally, when he doesn’t go on.

“Okay, so, bear with me,” Mitch says, “This is all hypothetical, okay,”

“Okay.”

“So let’s say you were, like, on one team for your whole career, and were, like, really good friends with your teammates.”

“And this is a hypothetical?” she asks.

“Yes,” Mitch says, “completely, any similarities between this and real life are entirely coincidental.”

She laughs. “Okay continue.”

“Anyway,” he starts again, “your original team is like, your family, like, they’re your dudes… er… girls?”

“Dudes,” she corrects.

“Dudes,” Mitch says, “and so, like, you just see them differently from other uh…  _ women _ . Because you have a thing for them, usually, women, that is. You have a thing for women and you’re on a team of women, but they’re your  _ team _ and always have been, so you don’t have a thing for them.”

“Okay,” she says, “I think I’m following.”

“Like, maybe you had a crush or two, but it was all dumb and stupid. So, let’s say, then you’re traded somewhere random and far away like… Worcester. You’re traded to the Worcester Blades.” 

“Oh, gross,” she says.

“I  _ know _ ,” Mitch says, “anyway, when you get to Worcester, you’re, like, so ready to be a bitch about it, like whining internally about it the whole way. But then you get there and your new teammates are, like. Super awesome. Like as awesome as the guys back in Toronto… I mean, Markham. Except this time you haven’t had seasons to build up in your mind that these guys are not like other guys, that they’re not off-limits. They’re not  _ just _ teammates in Bost… Worcester. And then there’s one, and she’s, like, really great to you, really nice and wants to show you around the place and maybe take care of you a little? But maybe not, you aren’t sure. And so you stick to her specifically, and the others are great but it’s like, this one, this one is different. How do you get through the season? Would you,d like, tell her? Or would you ignore it?”

There’s a long pause on her end before she says anything. “That’s a lot, buddy,” she says eventually. “I’m not sure I have a great answer for that.”

Mitch groans and throws an arm over his face.

“Is he like… oh, sorry. In this hypothetical, does she give me any signals like that maybe she’d be into me too? Or is it just something I’ve completely internalized?”

“I don’t know,” Mitch says, “She’s confusing, she, like, spends all this alone time with you, and lets you take her to places she didn’t want to go to in the first place. But also she’s just really nice to everyone so, like, it doesn’t mean you’re special necessarily.”

“Okay, well,” Laura says, “can I be honest?”

“Please.”

“I don’t think this should be your number one worry, and, like, I’m glad you told me, but I really think relationship stuff is more in Matt’s wheelhouse, he’s the one with all the experience.”

Mitch scoffs.

“Like, just because I’m a girl does not mean I’m good at this. So, like, whoever this guy is, whatever he means to you, just make sure you’re not using this as a distraction.”

He laughs, “From what? Hockey?”

“I mean, kind of,” She says, “Like, what, you’re going to tell me it doesn’t suck for you to see that once they traded you, the Leafs were able to sign Nylander and now they’re winning games left and right again?”

“Ugh, not you too,” Mitch groans.

“What?”

“Matt, Backes, Auston, and now you. Everyone’s going on like I should be fucking miserable or something. Like, what if it’s just not a big deal? Like, yeah, it sucked, but what? Am I supposed to throw a tantrum about it? Am I supposed to break down over it? Laura, they fucking traded me because they decided Willy was worth more. And look at them. Obviously they were right. I could never do shit for them, so they threw me away. Can’t blame them for that. Can’t blame them for getting rid of me, for an obviously  _ superior _ player and look! They got a young d-man out of it too.” 

“They got rid of you  _ because _ you were good,” Laura says, “you have to know that Mitch.”

“That’s what Matt said.” Distantly Mitch is aware that his cheeks are hot and he feels untethered. “But facts say the Leafs are winning without me.”

“Facts say the Bruins are winning  _ with _ you. Facts say you’re pretty much a lock for the playoffs, while that all-star team you left back in Canada is going to have to fight tooth and nail for it.” She pauses. “Listen, you’re missed here, Mitch, we miss you.”

He feels choked up when he says, “I miss you too.”

 

*****

 

If the hockey gods had any sense of theatrics, they would have had the Bruins set to play the Leafs one more time that season. But they don’t. Mitch plays through the rest of the year into April with his head down and on a mission. If hockey is the only thing going on in his head, nothing else can get in there.

He still joins the guys for movie night, makes sure to make it to all the team BBQs, and even play-wrestles with the kids. So he’s still enjoying himself, still getting close to his team. But everything else he shuts out, nothing else matters. 

Those feelings he had for Monte? Shoved down, not important. Not being good enough for Toronto? Already written off. That BS call in St Louis? The past is the past, or whatever Auston said. 

He also makes sure to call Laura back in mid-March, because he basically just dumped all of his shit on her, and that wasn’t fair. Besides, a lot of the stuffing emotions down thing meant he wasn’t talking to Auston, like, at all, and so he was feeling a little disconnected from home. So he calls Laura, asks her about how she’s doing, and listens to her complain about her own hockey games. 

March is also when he notices how close Monte and Backes are. After Marchy, Monte is Backes’ favorite target, even though Monte is impossible to chirp. Backes makes a comment on his clothes and Monte’s response is to look down and say loudly, “Darn, I knew I should have told my mother to help me this time.” And the room laughs. 

And it’s all good, because if Monte is spending time with Backes then he has no reason to realize that Mitch is pretty much avoiding him. Not, like,  _ completely _ , but he doesn’t go out of his way. Not anymore. 

Their last game is against Tampa and it’s for all the marbles, or well, top of the division at least. 

Mitch feels on fire that night, scoring two goals and passing off an assist on one of Krejci’s. His second goal goes in with 2 seconds left in the third period, puts them over the Lightning, and all the guys on the ice tackle him, and even his teammates on the bench are jumping up and down. 

Scoring a goal like that is like free-falling and Mitch never wants to hit the ground. 

He does when they leave the ice and the media sticks a microphone in his face.

“With this win you’ve pretty much locked yourself into a first round battle with the Toronto Maple Leafs, how are you going to handle that match up after the trade?”

Mitch looks the guy right in the face and blinks owlishly at him before saying, “Uh, well, hopefully.” 

The other people laugh, but internally Mitch is just apologizing to the hockey gods. They apparently have unparalleled theatrics up their sleeves. 

 

*****

 

Once the season ends, they get a day off, and Mitch uses it like he usually does, sitting alone in his room, when there’s a knock on his door. He gets up slowly, not sure who he’s expecting as he opens the door.

“You free?” Monte asks, leaning against the door frame.

“I guess so,” Mitch says.

Monte’s slow and gentle when he pushes into the room, like he is with everything else. “How’re you feeling?”

“Ugh,” Mitch throws his hands up as he turns to face Monte again. “Can everyone like, stop fucking asking me that question. I’m  _ fine _ , and I really don’t want to talk about my feelings anymore.”

Monte barely blinks at his outburst, his hands still in the pockets of his coat. “Usually people just say ‘pretty good, you?’ but now I’m definitely not suspicious.”

Mitch groans, and presses the balls of his hands into his eyes. “Matt and Auston won’t give it a rest. They even got one of my friends from the CWHL to call me up and make sure I wasn’t, like, drowning myself in the Charles or whatever. But I just… I like Boston. Why does everyone assume I’m, like, jaded over it.”

“Backes said you called it a bad break-up.”

Mitch frowns. “He told you?”

“We talk a lot,” Monte says. “He also told me what his advice was, and that was pretty good too. Seems like you didn’t take it, though.”

“Okay, but he told me to feel what I feel. And I feel  _ fine, _ like I’ve said over and over,” Mitch says. “I don’t know why people are so interested anyway. It’s a trade. Those happen. I can handle it.”

“Maybe we just care about you,” Monte says.

“Well if you care, then leave me alone.”

“That’s the opposite of what we should be doing,” Monte is still, frustratingly unfazed. Mitch wants to push him.

“The only thing ruining my mood is people not dropping this shit.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes caring about people is calling them out on being a dumbass,” Monte says, “and, like, I have my theories but those don’t really matter. What matters is what’s actually going on, and I need you to tell me what that is,  Mitch.”

“I like you,” he blurts out.

“What?” Monte asks.

“Romantically, I have feelings for you, that happen to be romantic,” he says.

That gets to Monte, who blinks at him with wide eyes. “Uh… excuse me?” he asks.

Mitch frowns. “I’m into you. Is there another way you want me to put this?”

Monte shakes his head and looks down at his shoes awkwardly. “Maybe I’m not the person you should be having this conversation with.”

“Maybe not,” Mitch echoes hollowly. 

 

******

Going into the playoffs, everyone’s mood shifts. They’re still having fun, and Pasta is still staging impromptu dance parties in the dressing room. It’s a good distraction, the hockey and Pasta, because otherwise the media is berating him endlessly about the series. Even Sportsnet tries to interview him every chance they get, which is just  _ excessive _ . He knows they have storylines, but the Toronto-Boston rivalry has enough angles that they should at least leave him alone for one afternoon. 

When they’re set to play in game one, the Bruins take pity on him and let him get out of pregame media duties that day. They say it’s because he needs to focus, but he thinks it’s really because Sweeney and the rest saw how close he was to strangling Kyle Bukauskas just the day before. 

Still, media or not, it doesn’t stop him from being shaken to the core when he steps out on the Garden ice and sees the Leafs at the other end. 

He’s played against them before so it shouldn’t get so far into his head but all he can see is Auston passing pucks to Willy around Brownie and Zach as they shove at each other. Mitch feels his throat seize, but he shakes it off. 

The last time they played the Leafs, they lost, and he wasn’t going to let that happen again. 

It happens.

They lose 5-3 and Mitch has an aching feeling like he was to blame. He was a negative 2 that night, and no one on his line scored anything. Pasta scored, and so did Zee, which was cool, and Bergeron picked up the third goal because that’s what Bergeron does. But Mitch was running around like he couldn’t do  _ anything _ . 

It’s so insanely frustrating Mitch can’t help but sit in his locker, face buried in his hands, just breathing, for way longer than is necessary.

Somewhere along the line someone knocks him in the shoulder, and he looks up to see Krej there.

“You can’t act like we’re done just yet,” he says.

“I know, sorry,” Mitch mutters.

“Take a shower and get some sleep,” Krej says, and it’s probably the best advice he’s received all year. 

 

******

 

The next day at practice Mitch focuses as much as he can. He takes a few face off drills against Bergy, and works on deflections in front of the net. No one reaches out and corrects his footing that day, and he takes it as improvement, even if it may just be because everyone else is so focused on their own thing.

When they’re getting off the ice, Mitch peers down the hallway and sees Auston stretching on the floor. He doesn’t linger to watch him, because Nordy is right behind him and shoves impatiently at his back. But once Mitch is changed out of his gear, he pokes his head back into the hallway, and sees that Auston is still there, legs spread, leaning forward so his forearms are pressed to the ground.

Mitch feels a little bit like he’s sneaking out past curfew as he approaches Auston. It’s not really against the rules, but Mitch can’t help but feel a little guilty about it.

It doesn’t stop him, though, and when he reaches Auston he has to nudge him with his toe. 

Auston turns his head and his face brightens when he sees Mitch. He tugs one of his earbuds out and sits back. “Hey Mitchy,” he says.

“Hey,” Mitch smiles a little, “what’s up?”

“Not much,” Auston grins, “you?”

“Just got off the ice, you guys going on soon?” he asks.

“Optional,” Auston says, “I gotta go over tape with a few of the guys so I’m not gonna be out there today. You look like you had a good work out though.”

Mitch shrugs, “Meh,” he says, “I hope so.”

“Still weird,” Austons says, “seeing you in Bruins stuff. Just makes me laugh a little, remembering all the shit you used to talk about them, and now, look at you, making yourself at home.”

“Yeah, well,” Mitch says, and moves to sit down against the wall across from Auston. “The guys here are great, and it’s not a bad city it’s just… passionate. Like Toronto is.”

“You can say that again,” Auston says. “I’m not, like, saying Boston is bad or anything. It’s just, you were always adamant about how terrible it was here, and how much you hated the team. I’m happy you’re happy here.”

Mitch laughs, a little darkly. “Big of you,” he says.

“What?” Auston asks.

“You don’t know if I’m happy here,” Mitch points out.

Auston frowns in confusion, “Are you not?” he asks.

“I am,” Mitch says, “but you didn’t  _ ask _ , you just assumed I was.”

“Okay, well,” Auston still seems confused, “I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

“Whatever,” Mitch says and runs a hand over his face and shakes his head. “It’s not a big deal or anything. I’m just saying, you could have talked to me about it.”

“I’ve been trying,” Auston says, voice quiet. “You don’t want to talk about anything, Mitchy.”

It’s true but Mitch doesn’t want to admit it. “I do love it here,” he says, almost defensively.

“But?” Auston leads.

“It’s not Toronto,” Mitch admits quietly, “It’s not Toronto and I don’t know where that leaves me.” Auston looks around them pointedly and Mitch has to roll his eyes. “You know what I mean, asshole.”

“Yeah,” Auston nods. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“For what?” Mitch asks.

“That Toronto was your home, and you were the one who was made to leave, that the Leafs were your team and they traded you anyway. There’s no loyalty in sports and all that, but it still sucks. It still sucks and I’m sorry,” Auston says.

Mitch looks down at his knees and feels his eyes start to burn, his throat start to constrict. “You don’t have to be sorry,” he mutters.

“Well, I am,” Auston says. “I’m not saying… I love Willy. But he should have thought of you too.” 

Mitch laughs. “He was negotiating a contract,” he says, “What he’s supposed to think about some other dude that’s not even negotiating until this offseason? He did his part and the Leafs chose  _ him _ , I don’t blame him for this.”

“Yeah,” Auston says, “there are a lot of people at fault, but it still would have been nice.”

“No one’s at fault, nothing bad happened,” Mitch says.

“Fine,” Auston doesn’t seem like he’s placated though. “But still, for me, there are a lot of people at fault. Because maybe ‘nothing bad happened’ to  _ you _ but my best friend moved away and barely talks to me anymore because of it. So maybe you don’t think of it this way, but I wish Willy thought of you, I wish Dubas was harder on him, and I wish you were still here.”  

Mitch meets his eyes then and feels his lower lip tremble.

“Mitch…” but Mitch is already crawling across the floor and wrapping his arms around Auston where he’s still sitting on the floor. He doesn’t have anything to say back but they just sit there, in the hallway, and hug it out. So Mitch doesn’t think he has to say much more.

 

*****

 

Game two is in Boston as well and he takes a huge hit from Borgman early in the first. It sends him careening into the boards near the bench and his first reaction is to grab his stomach.  _ Everything _ hurts but mostly his shoulder. He can sense people all around him but he doesn’t get up until the trainer is the one above him.

It’s bad. But not out of the playoffs bad. So the decision is up to him.

Mitch isn’t a fucking wimp either, so he doesn’t take the out, and he’s right back out there for the start of the third.

“You good?” Backes asks, after Mitch takes a few laps and gets back on the bench.

“Sure,” Mitch responds.

“Alright, fighter,” Backes says, and fist bumps him.

Auston scores 40 seconds into the third period, tying the game up, and he does a patented over-the-top celly. It makes something spark in Mitch when he watches Willy grab him for a hug. He thinks last game this would have pissed him off, made something in his chest darken. But instead, all he can think is, if he misses that so much, he might as well show them what they’re missing too.

And so he does.

They go into overtime tied at 2 when Mitch scores. They’re 15 minutes in, and Pasta dances around Mo and Trav like they’re not even there, but can’t get the puck past Freddie. But it’s okay, because Mitch can. He tracks the puck just enough that when Trav pulls it from the crease to clear it out to one of the forwards, Mitch steals it from him, easy as anything, and shoots it directly above Freddie’s shoulder, so fast Freddie didn’t even have time to try to stop it.

The last time he heard the Garden that loud he was on the other side, but now, as he slams his fist into the glass, all he can think is that he loves these guys, loves the fans. Pasta is on his back, screaming, and he’s getting punched and his helmet tapped by every guy on the team. He can’t even keep track.

“Way to go, Mitchy, way to go, Mitchy!” they’re pretty much all chanting as they head to congratulate Tuukka. He can’t stop smiling. He hasn’t felt this light in months.

Tuukka punches him lightly in the stomach and puts an arm around his shoulders.

“Thank fucking God for you, eh?” he says.

Mitch laughs.

On the way back into the locker room, Chara holds up his hand for a high five that Mitch has to jump to return, and Chara just pats him on the head as he smiles. 

He gets the player-of-the-game bomber jacket and hangs it proudly in his locker behind him as he talks to the media. 

“Seeing them score made me want to as well,” he tells them, “Just lucky my goal meant more than theirs.” 

 

******

 

The headlines in Toronto the next day are enough to make Mitch feel giddy. “Leafs Feel Sting of Marner Trade after 3-2 OT Loss to Boston in Game Two.” Anders is the one who points it out to him on the plane to Toronto, sitting next to Mitch and showing him the screen of his phone.

“The ghost of trades past,” Anders says, “visiting Toronto one at a time. First Seguin, then you, then…”

“Death, I think,” Charlie says across from them where he’s staring at his cards, “But I only read  _ A Christmas Carol _ once.” 

Anders rolls his eyes. “Okay, college boy.”

Charlie looks up at him with an arched eyebrow. “You literally went to Notre Dame, you talk about it all the time.”

“Well,” Mitch says and puts down a card, “Let’s kill the Toronto Maple Leafs.”

“Yeah!” Anders says, pumping his fist in the air, and Charlie just laughs. 

 

******

 

In Toronto, Mitch is tempted to go back to his apartment, but his parents warn him against it. It’s cold, and they tell him it’ll feel weird, no one’s lived there for so long and he took all the important stuff with him. He figures they’re right anyway, and the Bruins don’t want them leaving the hotel much at all, so Mitch doesn’t push it. 

When the knock on his door the next morning comes, he assumes it’s Anders, or Charlie, or JD, or a combination of the three that want to go to breakfast, but it’s none of them.

“What are you doing here?” Mitch asks.

“I want to talk,” but Monte doesn’t seem like he really wants to do anything of the sort. Last time he knocked on Mitch’s door he was all cocky, leaning against the wall; but now he seems awkward, like he’s too tall for the hallway and doesn’t know how to fit. 

“Okay,” Mitch says and steps aside.

When they’re in his room and Monte is looking around, Mitch clears his throat. He wants to get whatever conversation they’re supposed to have over with. It’s not like… the whole thing was dumb. Monte made him feel giddy, happy, relaxed, and yet anxious, tense, and confused, all at the same time. Yeah, Mitch did have feelings for him that he wasn't used to, but they just hung out a few times, they just got close, but not like that. He blew everything out of proportion just to avoid having a conversation that would have been harder. He hadn’t meant to fuck everything up.

He opens his mouth to say as much when Monte speaks first. “I like you too, you know,” he says.

“What?” Mitch hears but doesn’t remember saying, “Are you serious?”

Monte nods stiffly, “Yeah, it’s just,” he pauses. “Hard. You and me, like… us, it doesn’t go with hockey. So it’s… I don’t think I can pursue this but I couldn’t let you think it was just you either.”

“It doesn’t go with hockey?” Mitch asks.

“Guys being with… guys, it’s…” Monte rubs his neck like he can pull the words he’s looking for out of the back of his hoodie. “I mean, it’s not new for me, and I’m guessing it’s not new for you either. But there’s a reason I don’t talk about it outside of a few people. I just… you were struggling, and I freaked out on you, and that was wrong. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Mitch says, “you really like me?”

Monte sends him a disbelieving look. “I want to spend all my time with you, but you’re like smoke, I can’t hold onto you long enough.”

Mitch almost falls towards him so that he can touch Monte’s arms, his shoulders, his chest. “No time limit,” he’s saying nonsensically, “hold all you want.”

Monte’s arms go around him like he can’t help himself but his expression doesn’t change. “I’m sorry, Mitch” he says.

“You’re dumb,” Mitch says back. “I… I wasn't fair to you either. I only dropped that on you because I didn’t want to talk about my, you know, Toronto feelings, or whatever. It wasn’t a  _ lie, _ but it also wasn’t relevant. And I freaked you out, and I knew it was going to freak you out. I honestly didn’t think you’d, in any way, return the favor, or anything. So you don’t have to be sorry about anything.”

Monte looks upset still. “I want to be with you, in another life, though, maybe.”

Mitch makes a wounded noise, “Not a chance,” he says. “You think I could live like this? Knowing I could have this?”

“You can’t, I… I can’t.” Monte shakes his head, “There’s no room for us in hockey.”

“That’s not what Chara says,” Mitch says.

“What?”

“Chara says there’s room for everyone on the Bruins, room for everyone except those who make others feel unwelcome,” Mitch remembers that moment clearly still. “You’re not going to go against your father, are you?”

Monte rolls his eyes.

“Don’t cut me out just yet,” Mitch adds on a whisper, “not before we’ve had our chance.”

Monte looks down and meets his eyes again, something twinkling behind them, before he nods once. “Well,” he starts, “if Chara says…”

“Chara definitely says.” 

Monte smiles at him. “Okay, whatever, fine, but only because I don’t know how I’d ever say no to you.”

“Oh, lucky me,” Mitch says, and curls his hand around Monte’s neck. He’s so tall and broad, surrounding Mitch without even trying. It’s intoxicating, and Mitch has never felt it more than when he tugs Monte down to kiss him. 

He’s tentative and sweet, like he is with everything else, and Mitch tries to be just as sweet, but it’s hard. The world rights itself, it steadies itself, and Mitch wants to drown himself in that feeling, in Monte. 

“God,” he says when they part, not letting Monte get too far away as he speaks, “I’m so glad Willy signed that contract.”

Monte just laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> As always if you liked it please leave kudos and a comment! if you wanna talk to me about it my tumblr is spookylatta. Also i was thinking about writing a follow up, one that gives Laura Stacey more due (because she saved the day, surprise, and deserves some part of the conclusion) and is a little porny because this was very angst heavy and I'd like to write something a little more light for this universe I guess. So if you want that lmk


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